In the Springtime a certain King pitched his tent in a flowery meadow tract, among shady trees and near a gurgling brook. There came from the village three sisters, maidens of marriageable age, to gather flowers and edible vegetables. At noon-time they sat down on the bank of the crystal brook, not far from the royal tent, and began to prattle.
“If the King takes me in marriage for his eldest son,” said the oldest maiden, “I will weave for him a tent so big that it will accommodate all his army, and yet one-half of it will be empty.”
“If the King takes me in marriage for his second son,” said the second maiden, “I will weave for him a rug so big that it will accommodate all his court and the people of his realm, and yet half of it will be left empty.”
“I will not brag,” said the youngest sister; “but if the King takes me in marriage for his youngest son, and if it pleases Heaven, I will give birth to twins,—a silver-haired boy and a golden-haired girl.”
The two older maidens laughed at their young sister and ridiculed her. The King, who was listening to the talk of the maidens from behind the arras, was pleased with them and gave all three in marriage to his three sons. One day he asked of the oldest sister:
“Where is the tent which you were going to weave?”
“It was only vain prattle we sisters were indulging in,” said she.
“Where is your rug?” inquired the King of the second sister.
“It was merely idle talk,” replied she.
“And where are your twins?” asked he of the youngest sister.